


eye for an eye

by mokketake



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: General spoilers, M/M, S5 spoilers, and maybe returns a little favor, based on an idea from nihhonvargas on twt, jon apologizes for his early-on behavior towards martin, their concept lives in my head rent free
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokketake/pseuds/mokketake
Summary: jon owes martin an apology.from his heart, not his mind.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	eye for an eye

“Jon, can we… Can we stop? We… We’re getting close, I can feel it. What’s left of him--of it. I can feel it on me.”

“Y--yes, yes, of course, Martin, do you want to sit down, we can--we can stop, if you need.” Jon’s been guilty lately. It’s true, he’s a murderer now, some fucked-up god in this hellish realm of fears and instability, but more than that… He’s starting to come to terms, he thinks, with being a lover.

And while Jonathan Sims wasn’t born a lover, he has always been one to crave closure. To close every corner, fill every line of the page before turning to the next. Every file in its right place, every number on the same corner of the page. While this was, after all, what got him in this mess in the first place, well… Martin made it all worth it. 

It wasn’t like there were any trees to sit under, or a sun to take shelter from in shadow, or some miraculous yellow brick road they could venture off of just ever so slightly, so the two found a plot of land, small, cozy, that bent to their shape, and they sat; shedding their bags and sinking into each other’s weight. 

Martin… He and Jon had never really talked about what had happened in the lonely. Or rather, all the years leading up to it. Martin had slept on the train ride to the safehouse, and, quite frankly, he’d been rather preoccupied with his attempts to traverse not just this new apocalyptic realm, but the newly-paved roads of relationships and communication. He knew Jon had been with Georgie before, but… It was as embarrassing as lying on his resume--to be a Jewish, gay man, consistently shunned… It was his first real relationship. His first meaningful one, anyways. Which bothered him, because the man he was in love with was the same man who had pushed him into the lonely, who had pushed him into darkness and fear and denial. The man he was in love with had rejected mug after mug of tea, comment after comment of concern, but at the end of the day… Martin had always still been there for him. And it wasn’t that their relationship now was unhealthy. No, Jon had an easier time telling Martin he loved him than telling him his mood at any other point during the day. And yes, maybe it was Martin’s fault for still finding him attractive no matter the words that poured out of his mouth, no matter the worm holes and acne scars that spread across his skin like constellations in the once-organic night sky, no matter how long and unruly his hair got, the hair he had so often fantasized about grazing his fingers through like the pages of a rotting book, like the crystalline waters of a wild river…

“Jon--”  
“Martin--”

Martin chuckles, but the smile is only fleeting as he sees the grim expression on Jon’s face.

“Yes?”  
“You go,”

They speak over each other again. Jon takes Martin’s hand in his, turning to look Martin in the eye--which, ironically, was rare for Jon.  
There is a silence that seems to stretch forever, as Jon tries relentlessly to gauge the storm of thoughts and emotions behind Martin’s grey, blank eyes without the use of his newfound powers, a grim reminder of what Martin had done for Jon… And everything Jon had failed to give back.

“We need to talk,” he says, finally, taking a shaky breath.

Martin nods, but says nothing.

“More like…” Jon takes another shaky breath.

“I owe you an apology.” He isn’t used to saying sorry.

“Yes. You do.” 

Needless to say, he is taken aback by the curt firmness of Martin’s response, and he can’t help but slip up.

“I--I do?” He blinks, steadying himself. “I do.”

Martin gives him a look. It’s still hard to discern emotions with him--Jon’s never been good at that to begin with, and Martin’s time in the lonely left his eyes and hair grey; a blank slate, and now, Martin’s eyes had to get used to reflecting emotion and thought anew. But Jon thinks it’s a look of doubt. Condescension? No, Martin wasn’t condescending like that. And… And he was smiling. Jon feels a blush creep on his cheeks.

“Look, I… I’m sorry for starting the apocalypse. But even more than that, I’m sorry for everything I did before. All the times I--”

“Called me a useless ass? Rejected my help? Banished me?” 

“You--” Jon’s breath hitched. He hadn’t known… He didn’t realize, until that moment, just how much Martin had heard. Which was dumb, considering he had lived in the Institute for quite a while. “Yes. Yes, that.”

“It hurt, you know.” Martin bites his lip and takes a deep breath. “I heard you, some early mornings and late evenings. I heard the offhand remarks. What hurt most wasn’t… Wasn’t what you said, but how you said it. Like… Like it was second nature. Just fact. And it got to me. It really did.” 

Jon can’t look Martin in the eye anymore. He shakes his head.

“In the Lonely--you--you said…”

Martin nods, a ginger smile on his lips.

“I meant it. I loved you. I really did. And I do now, of course, more than ever, but… It definitely… It definitely helped, when it came to falling. Falling to… To Peter. I genuinely thought you hated me. For years. And it wasn’t like I realized my own feelings, I mean, I wrote poetry and all that--” Martin seizes, blushing, and Jon realizes he hadn’t meant to say that last part. “But it tore me apart. It was like my self esteem was being knocked out of me, blow by blow, a new punch every day, a new tooth lost with each swing.” 

Martin’s squeezing Jon’s hand, now. This isn’t easy for either of them. It hurts Jon, but he loves Martin too much to say anything. He’s too sorry to say anything. Besides, he deserves this, at least, as punishment for all he’s done.

“I loved you, Jon. I dropped everything, so many times, just for you, and you--for years, you just--treated me like a dog!” 

Jon can’t tell what Martin’s feeling. He doesn’t dare look. He doesn’t dare lean in as a tear trickles down Martin’s cheek and his glasses begin to fog up. It happens, sometimes. Martin leaks, the remainder of the Lonely manifesting in small ways. Jon doesn’t dare move, he barely dares to breath, focusing only on the pain shooting through his left hand, on Martin’s soft skin, on his own nails digging into the palm of his free hand. He needs to say something, he needs to _share_ , they talked about this, but it’s so hard, now, with the sea of knowledge crashing against the door to his consciousness now intermingling with his feelings, his emotions, and the fears of millions of other poor, poor souls…

It’s a while before Jon speaks. 

“I--I apologize, Martin. Truly.” His voice cracks, and he feels like a child again, apologizing to the one constant in his ever-changing life, but unlike repenting for a broken vase, he is on his knees begging to be absolved of years of malice and misguided action. 

He takes a deep breath, thinking. He knows what he has to say, now, not because the Eye told him--he knows not from his mind, but from his heart, and for once, he isn’t afraid to speak on his feelings, because if he doesn’t now, he might as well lose the only person he’s ever _truly_ loved, and that… That was a price he just wasn’t willing to pay. Not voluntarily, at least.

“You don’t have to forgive me, Martin. Not now, not ever.” The words grow gradually less forced. “I… I won’t try to justify myself. It doesn’t--it doesn’t matter, I don’t think. It…” He looks up timidly, but Martin’s eyes are obscured, his glasses fogged over, leaking smog that intermingles with real tears.

“I know how I treated you was wrong, more cruel than Elias’s gaze, sharper than Jonah’s crown. No one deserves to be treated like that. No one deserves to be treated like that, least of all you, Martin, God, if I knew, if I had just an _ounce_ of common sense, I swear, I would do it a thousand times over, just to tell you that I loved you every single day for half a decade instead… I would. I would give the time back. I would give the time back if it meant a chance to be better to you. But I can’t, so I do that every single day here, in this freakish nightmare of a world. It’s my hell, but I am--and will continue--to do everything I can to make it as close to heaven for you as possible. I--I haven’t forgotten, Martin, I know, I remember how I treated you, and I hate myself, I fucking _despise _myself for it every single day of my pathetic _life_ , because god damn it Martin, I hate the world and I hate myself, but _I love you_. I love you, okay? I’m sorry.”__

__The silence that settles over them is heavier than any gaze the Eye could ever begin to offer, heavier than any layer of the Buried._ _

__When Jon looks back up, he can see Martin’s eyes again, and he realizes that both of his hands are in Martin’s now._ _

__“I… I think I already forgave you,” Martin starts shakily. “Not entirely--I don’t know if I ever will--but when you pulled me from the Lonely… I swore I could kiss you, right then and there. And… That doesn’t mean I’m okay with being treated like dirt, Jon, I’m _not_ , but I guess I also know that’s not you, and… And I can love you while still holding on to that. In a sense. I won’t let it eat me, and maybe one day I will forgive you--” Martin knows he’s not making sense, now, “but I won’t ever forget. Years, Jon. Years.”_ _

__“I know.” Jon looks down. He does know. In his heart, not his head, nor his Eye. His hand… It’s wet, and he sees red ooze out between his skin and Martin’s from where his nails had been lodged. “I’m okay with that.” He pauses._ _

__“If you’ll let me,” he releases his clean hand from Martin’s, and tucks a strand of stray hair behind Martin’s ear, trailing his finger down the other man’s jaw._ _

__“If you’ll let me, I’ll work every day of my life to make it up to you. You can hold that against me--you deserve to--but for every hateful word, I’ll give you now ten to express my love for you, Martin.”_ _

__Martin doesn’t smile, but that’s okay, because his eyes do, and that means so much more than he can even imagine to Jon._ _

__“Now, if you’ll let me, I think the very first thing I owe you is a proper kiss.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! this concept is based off a series of tweets by @ nihhonvargas on twitter, i just got really attached to the idea of jon apologizing for his treatment of martin in seasons one through four-ish. also i really love how real, raw, and complex jonmartin is, so... yknow!


End file.
